M. This tyrant, however, showed himself how happy he really was; for once, when Damocles, one of his flatterers, was dilating in conversation on his forces, his wealth, the greatness of his power, the plenty he enjoyed, the grandeur of his royal palaces, and maintaining that no one was ever happier, “Have you an inclination,” said he, “Damocles, as this kind of life pleases you, to have a taste of it yourself, and to make a trial of the good fortune that attends me?”
And when he said that he should like it extremely, Dionysius ordered him to be laid on a bed of gold with the most beautiful covering, embroidered and wrought with the most exquisite work, and he dressed out a great many sideboards with silver and embossed gold.
He then ordered some youths, distinguished for their handsome persons, to wait at his table, and to observe his nod, in order to serve him with what he wanted. There were ointments and garlands; perfumes were burned; tables provided with the most exquisite meats. Damocles thought himself very happy.
In the midst of this apparatus, Dionysius ordered a bright sword to be let down from the ceiling, suspended by a single horsehair, so as to hang over the head of that happy man.
After which he neither cast his eye on those handsome waiters, nor on the well-wrought plate; nor touched any of the provisions: presently the garlands fell to pieces. At last, he entreated the tyrant to give him leave to go, for that now he had no desire to be happy.
Does not Dionysius, then, seem to have declared there can be no happiness for one who is under constant apprehensions? But it was not now in his power to return to justice, and restore his citizens their rights and privileges; for, by the indiscretion of youth, he had engaged in so many wrong steps and committed such extravagances, that, had he attempted to have returned to a right way of thinking, he must have endangered his life.
And when he said that he should like it extremely, Dionysius ordered him to be laid on a bed of gold with the most beautiful covering, embroidered and wrought with the most exquisite work, and he dressed out a great many sideboards with silver and embossed gold.
He then ordered some youths, distinguished for their handsome persons, to wait at his table, and to observe his nod, in order to serve him with what he wanted. There were ointments and garlands; perfumes were burned; tables provided with the most exquisite meats. Damocles thought himself very happy.
In the midst of this apparatus, Dionysius ordered a bright sword to be let down from the ceiling, suspended by a single horsehair, so as to hang over the head of that happy man.
After which he neither cast his eye on those handsome waiters, nor on the well-wrought plate; nor touched any of the provisions: presently the garlands fell to pieces. At last, he entreated the tyrant to give him leave to go, for that now he had no desire to be happy.
Does not Dionysius, then, seem to have declared there can be no happiness for one who is under constant apprehensions? But it was not now in his power to return to justice, and restore his citizens their rights and privileges; for, by the indiscretion of youth, he had engaged in so many wrong steps and committed such extravagances, that, had he attempted to have returned to a right way of thinking, he must have endangered his life.
—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 5.21
I usually take this story as reflecting poorly on Damocles, for being so foolish as to believe that privilege brings peace, so I forget to spare a thought for the tragic Dionysius, who has so bound himself up in power and wealth that he can no longer extricate himself from a life of anxiety. After all, what worse fate could befall a man than constantly being a slave to everyone else’s whims?
Now I’m not sure if everything I needed to know I learned in kindergarten, but there were so many childhood experiences that already gave me a good sense of which way is up. My problems inevitably arose when I ignored these lessons, by arrogantly assuming the answers weren’t supposed to be plain and simple. I increasingly find age merely reminding me of the truths I had learned long ago, even if I couldn’t put them into fancy words.
Back in the second and third grades, I would sometimes spend the afternoon at the homes of two classmates. Though they lived only a block away from each other, their circumstances could hardly have been more different. The first lived in a mansion on the top of a hill, and the second lived in a cramped basement apartment. The first had a father who was an esteemed lawyer, involved in local politics, and the second had never met his father. Was it odd, then, that the first boy was a nervous wreck, and the second always found reasons to be cheerful?
I do not wish to suggest that being rich ruined the one, and being poor redeemed the other, but rather that the things these respective families chose to care about would determine their happiness or misery. I could see it then in the ways they treated one another, and I understand it more now from my own years of struggle. Your values will make you, not your fortune.
Like so many of us, Damocles was impressed by luxury, and he hoped that sweet-talking the boss could give him a leg up. Yet Dionysius had learned the hard way how a man should be careful with his wishes, and whether it was out of kindness or out of spite, he stripped the toady of his illusions. You must only scratch the surface of a grasping man to find a wretched man, for he is desperate to fill the emptiness in his soul with the diversions of comfort and clout.
Those of us left from the old neighborhood will awkwardly avoid speaking about the family on the hill, because their personal troubles only grew and grew. I unfortunately lost touch with the boy in the basement for a time, after their landlord evicted them, only to recently run into him at the grocery store. He was working as a mechanic, still lived with his mother, and immediately asked me and my new wife over for dinner.
Even as I would like to think it is never too late to recover a decency of character out of a morass of excesses, the best option is to never get entangled in a life of avarice to begin with. In clinging to our spoils, we risk losing ourselves.
I usually take this story as reflecting poorly on Damocles, for being so foolish as to believe that privilege brings peace, so I forget to spare a thought for the tragic Dionysius, who has so bound himself up in power and wealth that he can no longer extricate himself from a life of anxiety. After all, what worse fate could befall a man than constantly being a slave to everyone else’s whims?
Now I’m not sure if everything I needed to know I learned in kindergarten, but there were so many childhood experiences that already gave me a good sense of which way is up. My problems inevitably arose when I ignored these lessons, by arrogantly assuming the answers weren’t supposed to be plain and simple. I increasingly find age merely reminding me of the truths I had learned long ago, even if I couldn’t put them into fancy words.
Back in the second and third grades, I would sometimes spend the afternoon at the homes of two classmates. Though they lived only a block away from each other, their circumstances could hardly have been more different. The first lived in a mansion on the top of a hill, and the second lived in a cramped basement apartment. The first had a father who was an esteemed lawyer, involved in local politics, and the second had never met his father. Was it odd, then, that the first boy was a nervous wreck, and the second always found reasons to be cheerful?
I do not wish to suggest that being rich ruined the one, and being poor redeemed the other, but rather that the things these respective families chose to care about would determine their happiness or misery. I could see it then in the ways they treated one another, and I understand it more now from my own years of struggle. Your values will make you, not your fortune.
Like so many of us, Damocles was impressed by luxury, and he hoped that sweet-talking the boss could give him a leg up. Yet Dionysius had learned the hard way how a man should be careful with his wishes, and whether it was out of kindness or out of spite, he stripped the toady of his illusions. You must only scratch the surface of a grasping man to find a wretched man, for he is desperate to fill the emptiness in his soul with the diversions of comfort and clout.
Those of us left from the old neighborhood will awkwardly avoid speaking about the family on the hill, because their personal troubles only grew and grew. I unfortunately lost touch with the boy in the basement for a time, after their landlord evicted them, only to recently run into him at the grocery store. He was working as a mechanic, still lived with his mother, and immediately asked me and my new wife over for dinner.
Even as I would like to think it is never too late to recover a decency of character out of a morass of excesses, the best option is to never get entangled in a life of avarice to begin with. In clinging to our spoils, we risk losing ourselves.
—Reflection written in 2/1999
IMAGE: Richard Westall, The Sword of Damocles (1812)
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